Chapter M: D'abbadie's Version (3)

She gave her the key, and Rose turns and turns it back again and again in the keyhole as if she had locked it; and leaving it unlocked she gave the key to her godmother, and she puts it in her pocket. She goes to bed; but Rose and Pretty-Rose did not go to bed at all. At midnight the son of the king arrives with his flying chariot. Rose and Pretty-Rose get into it, and go to this young man's house. The next day Rose says to Pretty-Rose:

"You are not so pretty as you were yesterday;" and looking at her closely, "I find you very ugly to-day."

Pretty-Rose said to her: "My godmamma must have taken away my diamond glint."

And she said to Rose, "You must go to my godmamma, and ask her to give me back the glint that I had before."

Rose did not want to go there--she was afraid; but Pretty-Rose prayed her so much, that she took off the silver dress and set out. [60] When she came to the mountain, she began to call out:

"Godmamma! godmamma! Give Pretty-Rose her beautiful glint as before. I shall be angry with you for always (if you do not), and you will see what will happen to you."

The godmother said to her:

"Come here, come in, I will give you breakfast."

She said, "I am afraid you will beat me."

"No! no! come quickly, then."

"You will give Pretty-Rose her glint?"

"Yes, yes, she has it already."

She then goes in. The queen washes her feet and wipes them, and puts her upon the velvet cushion, and gives her some chocolate; and says to her, that she knows where Pretty-Rose is, and that she will be married, and to tell her from her not to trouble herself about her toilet, nor about anything that is necessary for the wedding and feast, that she would come on the morning of the day.

Rose goes off then. While she is going through the city where Pretty-Rose is, she hears two ladies, who were saying to two gentlemen, "What kind of wife is it that our brother is going to take? Not like us, because he keeps her shut up so close. Let us go and see her."

The little dog said to them, "Not a bit like you, you horrible blubber-lips, as you are. You shall see her--yes."

When the young kings heard that, they were ready to run their swords through the poor little dog. When she gets to Pretty-Rose's house she hides herself, and tells her all that has happened. Pretty-Rose gives her some good liqueur to drink, and she comes to herself. The king makes a proclamation that whoever shall (merely) spit where the little dog shall have placed her feet shall be killed, and to mind and pay attention to it.

When the marriage day had arrived, came the queen. She brought for the wedding-day a robe of diamonds; for the next day, of gold; and for the third day, of silver. Judge how beautiful she was with her glint of diamonds, and her dress of diamonds, too. They could not look at her. Her godmother told her to have her sisters-in-law there, and not to be afraid of them; that they could not come near her in beauty. When she went out (of her room) on the wedding-day, her sisters-in-law could not look at her, she dazzled them so much. They said to each other:

"The little dog was right when she said she was beautiful, this lady."

And for three days Pretty-Rose walked about, [61] and every one was astounded at her beauty. When the feast was over, the godmother went home. Rose would not leave Pretty-Rose. The godmother told Pretty-Rose that she was born of poor parents, and that she had once helped them, but that what she had given them must be already exhausted. Pretty-Rose gave them enough for all to live grandly. She herself had four children, two boys and two girls; and if they had lived well, they had died well.

Laurentine
Learnt it from her mother.

V.--WITCHCRAFT AND SORCERY.

Our legends of witchcraft and sorcery are very poor, and in some of these, as said above, the witch is evidently a fairy. The reason of this is not that the belief in witchcraft is extinct among the Basques, but because it is so rife. Of stories of witchcraft (as matters of fact), and some of them very sad ones, we have heard plenty; but of legends, very few. In fact, witchcraft among the Basques has not yet arrived at the legendary stage. The difference is felt at once in taking down their recitations. In the legends they are reciting a text learnt by heart. It is "the story says so." "It is so," whether they understand it or not. But they tell their stories of witchcraft in their own words, just as they would narrate any other facts which they supposed had happened to themselves or to their neighbours. One woman told us, as a fact within her own knowledge, and persisted in it, a tale which appears both in M. Cerquand's pages and in Fr. Michel's "Pays Basque." [62] It was only after cross-examination that we could discover that it had not really happened to her own daughter, but that she had only seen the cottage and the chapel which are the scene of the alleged occurrence. We have, too, been informed on undoubted authority that, only a year or two back, a country priest was sorely puzzled by one of his parishioners, in his full senses, seriously and with contrition confessing to him that he frequented the "Sabbat."

But what is strange and unexpected is, that with this prevalence of belief in witchcraft and sorcery, and which can be traced back to our earliest notices of the Basques, there is nothing to differentiate their belief on this subject from the current European belief of three centuries back. All the Basque words for witchcraft and sorcery are evidently borrowed. The only purely Basque term is Asti, which seems to be rather a diviner than a sorcerer. The term for the "Sabbat" is "Akhelarre"--"goat pasture"--and seems to be taken from the apparition of the devil there in form of a goat, which is not uncommon elsewhere. Pierre de Lancre, by the terrors of his hideous inquisition in 1609, produced a moral epidemic, and burnt numerous victims at St. Jean de Luz; but there is not a single Basque term in all his pages. Contrary to general opinion, both the Spanish Inquisition and the French ecclesiastical tribunals were more merciful and rational, and showed far less bigotry and barbarity than the two doctrinaire lawyers and judges of Bordeaux. The last person burnt for witchcraft at St. Jean de Luz was a Portuguese lady, who was accused of having secreted the Host for purposes of magic, in 1619. While her case was being investigated before the Bishop of Bayonne, in the crypt of the church, a mob of terrified fishermen, on the eve of starting for Newfoundland, burst in, tore her out of the church, and burnt her off-hand, in the midst of the "Place." "They dared not," they said, "sail while such a crime was unpunished." The Bishop's procés-verbal of the occurrence is still extant in the archives of the Mairie.

The magic wand in all our tales is now said to be made from the hazel. In De Lancre's time it was from the "Souhandourra"--"the cornus sanguinea"--or dog-wood. This was then the witches' tree.

THE WITCHES AT THE SABBAT. [63]

Once upon a time, like many others in the world, there was a young lad. He was one day in a lime-kiln, and the witches came at night. They used to dance there, and one pretended to be the mistress of a house, who was very ill; and one day, as she was going out of the church, she let the holy wafer fall on the ground, and a toad had picked it up; and this toad is still near the door, under a stone, with the bread in his mouth. [64] And again, this same witch said that, until they took away this bread out of the toad's mouth, this lady will not be cured. This young lad had heard it all. When they had danced their rounds, the witches go away home, and our lad comes out of the lime-kiln, and goes to the house of this lady who is ill, and says to her,

"I know what must be done to cure you," and he told her all that he had heard from the witch.

The sick lady did what they told her, and the same day she was cured, and the young man was well paid.

And that very evening there came to him a hunch-backed girl, and said to him,

"I have heard that you know where the witches hold their Sabbat."

He says, "Yes."

"To-morrow I think I should like to hear what the witches say."

And he points out to her the hole of the lime-kiln. And at midnight all the witches came, some from one quarter, some from another--some laughing, and others cutting capers. The witches said one to another,

"We must look in the lime-kiln, to see what may be there."

They go to look, and they find the hunchback girl, and they send her off--

"Go, go--through hedges and hedges, through thorns and thorns, through furze-bushes and furze-bushes, scratches and pricks."

And in no way could our poor hunchback find her way home. All torn to pieces and exhausted, at last, in the morning, she arrived at her house.

Estefanella Hirigaray.

The second part of this story is evidently a blundered version, transferred from fairies to witches, of Croker's "Legend of Knochgrafton" ("Fairy Legends of South of Ireland," p. 10); and M. Cerquand, Part II., p. 17, has a Basque version, "Les Deux Bossus," almost identical with this Irish legend. The tale, as given in Croker, is found in the Bearnais Gascon, in Spanish, Italian, and German. It is evident, we think, that the Basque land is not its home, but that it has travelled there. We have also another Basque variation of the first part, in which two lads hear the witches at the Sabbat say that a king's daughter can only be cured by eating an ox's heart. The opening of this story is so different, that we here give it:--

THE WITCHES AND THE IDIOTS.

Once upon a time there were two brothers, the one an idiot, and the other a fool. They had an old mother, old, old, very old. One morning early the elder arranges to go with his sheep to the mountain, and he leaves the fool at home with his old, old, mother, and said to him:

"I will give my mother some chocolate now, and you will give her a hot bath (afterwards), quite, quite, hot."

He goes to the mountain with his sheep. The second son put the water on to boil, and said to his mother:

"My mother, the water is hot, what bath would you like?" [65]

She says to him:

"A bath with wood-ashes."

And he carries it to the bed while it is boiling; and as she did not get up, he said to her:

"Would you like a little broth?" And she said "Yes."

"My mother, get up quickly!" and she did not get up.

He takes her, and puts her himself into this boiling water, so that he boiled his poor mother. And he said to her,

"My mother, get up again; the water is not cold."

She did not answer. The night comes, and the other brother returns from the mountains, and says to him:

"How is our mother?"

"All right."

"Have you given her the bath?"

"Yes; but she is still there, and she is asleep in her bath."

"Go and see if she is still asleep."

He goes, and says, "No, no; she is laughing--she keeps on laughing."

The other brother goes there, and perceives that their mother is quite dead. He did not know what to do. They both go into the garden, and there they make a great hole and bury her.

They then burn the house, go into the woods, see the witches, cure the king's daughter, whom one of them marries, and they live happily. [66]

It is possible that this first part may be a narrative of fact. We knew at Asté, near Bagnères de Bigorre, a brother, an idiot "crétin," who deliberately began to chop up his sister (also an idiot and "crétin"), who offered no resistance. He had chopped off several of her fingers, when they were accidently interrupted. In spite of the blood and pain, she was only laughing at it.

We have another tale of this kind, which may be also founded on fact, so sad is often the condition of the crétins in the mountains. It is of a mother and her imbecile son; he nearly kills himself by chopping off the branch of the tree on which he was sitting. Then he believes himself dead, and commits various other follies. His mother thinks a wife might be able to take care of him, and tells him to cast sheeps' eyes at the young girls coming out of church after mass. He takes this literally, cuts out the eyes of all their flock, and so kills their sheep, the only thing they had, and throws these at the girls, who are disgusted, and quarrel with him. He goes home, and mother and son end their lives together in wretchedness.

THE WITCH AND THE NEW-BORN INFANT.

Like many others in the world, there was a man and woman, labourers, who lived by their toil. They were at ease. They had a mule, and the man lived by his mule carrying wine. Sometimes he was a week away from home. He always went to the same inn, where there was a woman and her daughter. One day the labourer sets off with his loaded mule, and his wife was very near her confinement. She was expecting it hourly; but, as he had orders upon orders, he was obliged to set off. He goes then, and comes to this inn. It was a market-day, and they had not kept a bedroom for him as usual, because there were so many people there, and he is put into a dark room without windows near the kitchen. He had not yet gone to sleep, when he hears the woman say to her daughter,

"You are not aware that the wife of the man who is there is confined? Go and see if he is asleep."

When the man heard that, he began to snore; and when the young girl heard through a slit in the door that he was snoring, she said to her mother,

"Yes, yes, he is asleep."

The mother said to her then (you may guess whether he was listening)--

"I must go and charm this newly-born infant."

She takes up a stone under the hearth, and takes from under it a saucepan, in which there was an ointment. She takes a brush, and well rubs herself over her whole body, saying, [67]

"Under all the clouds and over all the hedges, half an hour on the road, another half-hour there, and another to return."

As soon as she had said that, off she went. When the man saw that she was gone, he comes out of his room. He had seen what she did. He anoints himself like her, and says,

"Over the clouds, and under the hedges"--(he made a blunder there [68])--"a quarter of an hour to go there, half an hour to stop, and a quarter of an hour for the return."

He arrives at his house, but torn to pieces by the thorns, and his clothes in strips, but that was all the same to him; he places himself behind the door of his wife's bedroom with a big stick. There comes a great white cat, "Miau, miau!" [69] When the man heard that, he goes out of the place where he was hiding, and with his stick he almost killed this cat, and set out directly afterwards for the inn, but not easily, under all the hedges. In spite of that, he arrives at the woman's house. He goes to bed quickly. The next day, when he gets up, he sees only the daughter. He asks her where her mother is. "She is ill, and you must pay me."

"No! I prefer to see your mother."

He goes to the mother, and finds her very ill. From this day he goes no more to that inn. When he gets home, he tells his wife what had happened, and how he had saved the child. But all was not ended there. They had misfortune upon misfortune. All their cows died, and all their other animals too. They were sinking into the deepest misery. [70] They did not know what would become of them. This man was brooding sadly in thought, when he met an old woman, who asked him what was the matter with him. He told her all his troubles, how many misfortunes they had had--all his cows lost. He had bought others, and they too had died directly. He is charmed by witches.

"If you are like that you have only to put a consecrated taper under the peck measure in the stable, and you will catch her."

He does as the old woman told him, and hides himself in the manger. At midnight she comes under the form of a cat, and gets astride the ox, saying:

"The others before were fine, but this is very much finer."

When our man heard that he comes out from where he was hiding, and with his stick he leaves her quite dead; although when he had done that our man was without any resources; (he had) neither bread, nor maize, nor cows, nor pigs, and his wife and children were starving.

He goes off to see if he can do anything. There meets him a gentleman, who says to him:

"What is the matter, man, that you are so sad?"

"It is this misery that I am in that torments me so."

"If you have only that, we will arrange all that if you like. I will give you as much money as you wish, if at the end of the year you can guess, and if you tell me with what the devil makes his chalice; and if you do not guess it then your soul shall be for us."

When our man has got his money, he goes off home without thinking at all of the future. He lived happily for some time with his wife and child; but as the time approached he grew sad, and said nothing to his wife. One day he had gone a long way, wishing and trying to find out his secret, and the night overtakes him. He stops at a cross-roads, and hides himself. (You know that the witches come to the cross-roads [71] to meet together.) They come then, "hushta" from one side, "fushta" from the other, dancing. When they had well amused themselves like that, they begin to tell each other the news. One says:

"You do not know, then, such a man has sold his head to the devil; certainly he will not guess with what the devil makes his chalice. I do not know myself; tell it me."

"With the parings of the finger-nails which Christians cut on the Sunday."

Our man with difficulty, with great difficulty, kept from showing himself, through his joy and delight. As soon as the day appeared all the witches went off to their homes, and our man too went off to his. He was no more sad. He waited till the day arrived, and went to the cross-roads. This gentleman was already there, come with a lot of devils, thinking that he would be for hell. He asks him:

"You know what the devil makes his chalice of?"

"I do not know, but I will try. With the parings of the finger-nails which Christians cut on Sundays?"

As soon as he heard that, the devil goes off with all the others in fire and flame to the bottom of hell. Our man went off home, and lived a long time with his wife and daughter. If they had lived well, they would have died well too.

THE CHANGELING.

Like many others in the world, there was a gentleman and lady. They were very well off, but they could not keep any of their children. They had had ever so many, and all died. The lady was again in a hopeful condition. At the beginning of the night she was confined of a fine boy.

Two young men heard this news, and they said to each other:

"We ought to have a feast; we must steal a sheep out of this house. They will not pay attention to us with all their bustle and their joy."

One of the lads then goes after eleven o'clock towards the house. He meets an old woman, who said to him:

"Where are you off to, lad? There is nothing like the truth."

"I was going, then, to such a house; the lady has been confined, and I wish to take advantage of it to steal a sheep. They will not pay any attention to-day. And you, where are you going?"

"I too am going to the house. I am a witch, and it is I who have killed all their children."

"And how do you do that?"

"Easily. When the infant sneezes nobody says, 'Domine stekan,' [72] and then I become mistress of the child."

The witch enters, doubtless as she liked, much more easily than our lad; but nevertheless he got in himself too. He was busy choosing his sheep, when he hears the infant sneeze. He says very, very loudly:

"Domine stekan; even if I should not get my sheep."

They go to see who is there, and what he was saying. The lad relates what the old woman had told him. As you may imagine they thanked him well, and told him to choose the finest sheep. The father and mother were delighted that they would save this child; but, poor wretches, they had not seen everything. A devil had come, who took their child and carried it to the roadside, and left it there. A coachman passing by sees this child, and takes it with him. He was married, but had no children. They had a great desire to have one. They were very well off also. His wife was delighted to see this fine child; they gave it a good nurse, and the child grew fast and became wonderfully handsome. The devil had placed himself in the child's cradle. This mother gave him suck, and, contrary to the other, he did not grow at all. The parents were vexed at having such a child; they did not know what to think of it. Their true child was more than extraordinarily clever. The coachman and his wife were dazed with joy, and they loved him as (if he were) their own child. When he was twelve years old, he said to his father and mother that he wished to become a monk. The coachman and his wife were very sorry, and they asked him to become only a priest. But after having seen his great desire they allow him to do as he wished.

He went away then, and at the age of eighteen years he was able to say mass. When he was there, one day two men were passing in front of the garden of his real father, and they began to quarrel. They got so enraged that one killed the other, and threw him into his father's garden. This father was tried and condemned to death for having killed this man.

While this young monk was saying mass, there comes to him a white pigeon and tells him what was taking place in his father's house, and that the pigeon will assume the form of the monk, "and you shall go off in my shape." The monk willingly does what he tells him, and arrives when they are leading his father to execution. He was being followed by the judges and by a crowd of people. He asks what he has done. They tell him that he has killed a man. He asks if they would do him a favour before they put him to death--if they would accompany him to the grave of the man whom he has killed. They tell him, "Yes."

They all go off then. The monk has the grave opened, restores him to life, and asks him, pointing to his father:

"Is this the man who has killed you?"

The dead man says to him, "No!"

After having said that he dies again. The monk did not wish to know who had killed him; he knew all he wanted with that. The father wished to take the monk home with him to dinner, but he would not go that day. He said to him:

"I will come on such a day."

As you may fancy they made a splendid dinner; nothing was wanting there. They invited all their friends and acquaintances to rejoice with them. When the monk arrives, the lady, before sitting down to table, wished to show him her child, how she had suckled him with her own milk eighteen years, and that he did not grow at all, but was always just as he was when he was born. The monk betook himself to prayer, and he saw that which they believed to be a child fly away under the shape of a devil in fire and flame, and he carried off with him part of the house. He told his mother not to vex herself because she had had the devil there, and that she would be happier without such a child.

All the world was astonished at the power of this monk; but the mother was still grieved. The monk, to console her, told her his history; how he was her true child; how the devil had taken him and carried him to the roadside; how he had been found and brought up by a coachman; and that it was he himself who had been made priest, and her son. All were astounded at his words. After they had well dined, the monk went back into his convent, and the father and mother lived honourably, as they did before; and as they lived well, they died well too.

Catherine Elizondo.

VI.--CONTES DES FÉES.

Under this head, we include all those legends which do not readily fall under our other denominations. Fée and fairy are not synonymous. All such tales as those of the "Arabian Nights" might come within the designation of Contes des Fées, but they could hardly be included under Fairy Tales, though the former may be said to embrace the latter. We have divided our legends of this kind into two sections:--(A) Those which have a greater or less similarity to Keltic legends, as recorded in Campbell's "Tales of the West Highlands," and elsewhere; (B) Those which we believe to be derived directly from the French.

We have chosen the designation Keltic, because the burning question concerning the Basques at present is their relation to the Keltic race. Anything that can throw light upon this will have a certain interest for a small portion of the scientific world. That these legends do in some degree resemble the Keltic ones will, we think, be denied by no one. Whether they have a closer affinity with them than with the general run of Indo-European mythology may be an open question. Or, again, whether the Basques have borrowed from the Kelts, or the Kelts from the Basques, we leave undetermined. One legend here given, that of "Juan Dekos," has clearly been borrowed from the Gaelic, and that since the Keltic occupation of the Hebrides. [73] The very term Keltiberi, as used by the classical writers, shows some contact of the Kelts with the Basques in ancient times, whether we take Basque and Iberi to be co-extensive and convertible terms or not. What the rôle of the "White Mare" is in these tales we do not understand. Can it be connected with the figure of a horse which appears so frequently on the so-called Keltiberian coins, or is it a mere variation of the Sanscrit "Harits, or horses of the sun?" Campbell, Vol. I., p. 63, says these "were always feminine, as the horses in Gaelic stories are."

It may be, perhaps, as well to mention that we did not see Campbell's "Tales of the West Highlands" till after these legends had been written down.

(A.)--TALES LIKE THE KELTIC.

MALBROUK. [74]

Like many others in the world, there was a man and a woman who were over-burdened with children, and were very poor. The man used to go to the forest every day to get wood for his family. His wife was on the point of being confined. One day he was in the forest, and a gentleman comes to him, and says:

"What are you doing, friend?"

"I am looking for wood to support my family."

"You are very poor, then?"

"Yes, yes."

"If you will make me godfather to your next child according to your law, I will give you a great deal of money."

He says to him, "Yes, I will do so."

He gives him, then, a great deal of money, and he goes home. His wife is confined shortly afterwards, and they were waiting, not knowing what to do to tell it to the godfather, since they did not know where he lived. He himself appeared from somewhere. They go to the church, and he gives him the name Malbrouk. While they were returning to the house, the godfather disappears with the child like smoke. The father and mother were distressed about it, though they had plenty of money; but in time their grief faded away.

The old Malbrouk went to his house. His wife was a witch, and they had three daughters. The little Malbrouk grew fast, and at seven years' old he was as tall as a tall man. His godfather said to him:

"Malbrouk, would you like to go to your own home?"

He said to him, "Am I not here in my own home?"

He told him, "No," and that he might go there for three days.

"Go to such a mountain, and the first house that you will see there will be yours."

He goes, then, to the mountain, and sees the house, and goes to it. He finds his two brothers at the door cutting wood. He tells them that he is their brother; but they will not believe him. They take him indoors, and he tells his father and mother that he is Malbrouk. They are astonished to see such a big man for seven years' old. They pass these three days in great delight; and he said to his brothers:

"There is plenty of room at my godfather's for you too, and you must come with me."

They go off, then, all three together. When they arrive, the witch was not at all contented. She said to her husband:

"I don't know. These three men will do us some mischief, and we must kill them."

Malbrouk did not wish to; but as the witch gave him no rest, he told her that at the end of three days he would kill them. What does the little Malbrouk do? At night their daughters used to put crowns on their heads, and the little Malbrouk and his brothers cotton night-caps. The little Malbrouk says to them:

"We must make an exchange; it is now our turn to have the crowns."

The girls were just as well pleased, and they gave them to them. One night (old) Malbrouk goes there, and after having felt their heads, when he perceived that they had the night-caps, he kills the three. After the little Malbrouk saw that he woke his brothers, took his godfather's seven-leagued boots, and goes off, far, far, far away. The witch said to (the old Malbrouk):

"You have taken good care whom you have killed? I am not at all satisfied that you have not done some donkey-trick."

The witch goes, and sees her three daughters dead. She was terribly angry, [75] and there was no help for it.

Malbrouk and his brothers come to a place where a king lives, and he remarks that everything is sad. He asks what it is? They tell him that the king has lost his three daughters, and that nobody can find them. Malbrouk says to them:

"I will find them."

They tell that quickly to the king, and bring them before him, and Malbrouk tells him, too, that he will find them. All three set out. When they have gone a little way they find an old woman, who says to them:

"Where are you going to in that fashion?"

"To look for the king's three daughters."

This old woman says to them:

"Go to the king, and ask him for three hundred fathoms of new rope, a bucket, and a bell."

They go, and the king gives to them immediately what they ask for. They go, then, to the woman, and she says to them, pointing to a well, that they are in that well. [76] The eldest put himself into the bucket, and says to them:

"When I am afraid, I will ring the bell."

When he has gone only a little way he is frightened, and rings. They pull him up. The second goes; and when he has gone a little farther down he is frightened, and rings. Malbrouk then gets in, and he says to them:

"When I shall give a pull at the bucket from below, then you will pull it up."

He goes down, then, and at last he sees that there is a beautiful house underground, and he sees there a beautiful young lady, who is sitting with a serpent asleep in her lap. When she sees Malbrouk, she says to him:

"Be off, I pray you, from here; he has only three-quarters of an hour to sleep, and if he wakes, it is all over with you and me."

He says to her, "No matter; lay the head of the serpent on the ground, gently, gently, without waking him."

She lays it there, and he carries off this young lady in the bucket, after having pulled the cord. He goes into another chamber, and he sees another young lady, still more beautiful, with the head of a lion asleep on her lap. She also says to him:

"Be off quickly from here. He has only half-an-hour to sleep, and if he wakes, it is all up with you and me."

Malbrouk says to her, "Place gently, gently, without waking him, the head of the lion on the ground."

She does so. Malbrouk takes her, gets into the bucket with her, and his brothers pull them both up. They write at once to the king to come and fetch them, that they have found two of his daughters. As you may suppose, the king sends a carriage directly to fetch them, and he makes great rejoicings. The king tells him to choose whichever of the two he likes for his wife. Malbrouk says to him:

"When I shall have found your third daughter she shall be my wife, and my two brothers may take these two young ladies for their wives."

They do as Malbrouk said, and he sets out to see his sweetheart. He goes on, and on, and on. All the fowls of the air know Malbrouk. As he was going along he finds a wolf, a dog, a hawk, and an ant, and in their language they cry out:

"Oyhu! [77] Malbrouk, Malbrouk!" and saying to him, "Where are you going, Malbrouk? these three days we have been here before this sheep, and cannot agree how to divide it; but you, you shall divide it."

Malbrouk goes to them, then, trembling lest they should make a division of him, too. He cuts off the head, and gives it to the ant.

"You will have enough to eat, and for your whole household."

He gives the entrails to the hawk, and for the dog and the wolf he cuts the carcase in half. He left them all well satisfied; and Malbrouk goes on his way in silence, in silence. When he had gone a little way, the ant says:

"We have not given Malbrouk any reward."

The wolf calls to him to come back. Malbrouk comes trembling, thinking that it was his turn, and that they are going to eat him, without doubt. The ant says to him:

"We have not given you anything, after that you have made such a good division for us; but whenever you wish to become an ant, you have only to say, 'Jesus, ant!' and you will become an ant."

The hawk says to him: "When you wish to make yourself a hawk, you will say, 'Jesus, hawk!' and you will be a hawk."

The wolf says to him: "When you shall wish to become a wolf, you shall say, 'Jesus, wolf!' and you shall be a wolf."

And the dog, he said to him the same thing, too. [78] He goes off, then, well pleased, further into the forest. A woodpecker says to him:

"Malbrouk, where are you going?"

"To fetch such a daughter of a king."

"You will not find her easily. Since they have delivered her sisters, he has carried her to the farther side of the Red Sea, [79] in an island, and keeps her there in prison, in a beautiful house, with the doors and windows so closely shut that only the ants can get into that house."

Malbrouk goes off happy at hearing this news, and that he would find the princess. He goes on, and on, and on, and he arrives opposite to this island, and remembering what the hawk had said to him, he said, "Jesus, hawk!" and immediately he becomes a hawk. [80] He flies away, and goes on until he comes to the island of which the woodpecker had told him; he sees that he can only get in there like an ant, and he says, "Jesus, ant!" and he gets through the little lattice-work. He is dazed at the sight of the beauty of this young lady. He says, "Jesus, man!" and he becomes a man again. When the young lady sees him, she says to him:

"Be off quickly from here. It is all over with your life. He is about to come, this horrible body without a soul, [81] before a quarter of an hour, and you will be done away with."

"I will become an ant again, and I will place myself in your bosom; but do not scratch yourself too hard, else you will crush me."

As soon as he has said that the monster comes. He gives her partridges and pigeons for her dinner, but he himself eats serpents and horrible vermin. He tells her that he has a slight headache, and to take the hammer and rap him on the head. She could not lift it, it was so big; but she knocks him as well as she is able. The monster goes off. The ant comes out from where he was, and prepares to eat the partridges and pigeons with the young lady. Malbrouk said to her:

"You must ask him, as if you were in great trouble about it, what would have to be done to kill him? and you will tell him how unhappy you would be if he should be killed--that you would die of hunger in prison in this island."

The young lady says, "Yes," she will do so.

The monster comes again, and says to her:

"Ay! ay! ay! my head. Take the hammer, and hit me hard."

The young lady does it until she is tired, and then she says:

"How unfortunate I shall be if you die."

He answers, "I shall not die. He who will know that will know a great secret."

"Most certainly I would not wish you to die. I should die of hunger in this island without you, and I should get no benefit by it. You ought to tell me what would kill you."

He says to her, "No! Before this, too, a woman has deceived a man, and I will not tell you."

"You can tell it to me--yes, to me. To whom shall I tell it? I see nobody. Nobody is able to come here."

At last, at last, he tells her then:

"You must kill a terrible wolf which is in the forest, and inside him is a fox, in the fox is a pigeon; this pigeon has an egg in his head, and whoever should strike me on the forehead with this egg would kill me. [82] But who will know all that? Nobody."

The princess said to him, "Nobody, happily. I, too, I should die."

The monster goes out as before, and the ant too, as you may think, happy in knowing the secret. On the very next day he sets out for the forest. He sees a frightful wolf. He says, directly, "Jesus, wolf!" and he immediately becomes a wolf. He then goes to this wolf, and they begin to fight, and he gets him down and chokes him. He leaves him there, and goes off to the young lady in the island, and says to her:

"We have got the wolf; I have killed him, and left him in the forest."

The monster comes directly afterwards, saying:

"Ay! ay! ay! my head! Strike my head quickly."

She hits his head till she is tired. He says to the princess:

"They have killed the wolf; I do not know if anything is going to happen to me. I am much afraid of it."

"You have nothing to be afraid of. To whom could I have told anything? Nobody can get in here."

When he has gone, the ant goes to the forest. He opens the wolf, and out of him comes a fox, who escapes at full speed. Malbrouk says, "Jesus, dog!" and he becomes a dog. He, too, sets off running, and catches the fox. They begin to fight, and he kills him, too. He opens him, and there comes out of him a pigeon. Malbrouk says, at once, "Jesus, hawk!" and he becomes a hawk. He flies off to catch the pigeon, seizes him in his terrible talons, and takes out of his head this precious egg, and goes proudly with it into the chamber of the young lady. He tells how he has very happily accomplished his business, and says to her:

"At present, it is your turn; act alone."

And again he makes himself an ant. Our monster comes, crying, that it is all up with him, that they have taken the egg out of the pigeon, and that he does not know what must become of him. He tells her to strike him on the head with the hammer.

The young lady says to him:

"What have you to fear? Who shall have got this egg? And how should he strike your forehead?"

He shows her how, saying, "Like that."

As the young lady had the egg in her hand, she strikes the monster as he had told her, and he falls stark dead. In an instant the ant comes out joyously (from his hiding-place), and he says to her:

"We must set out instantly for your father's house."

They open a window, and the young man makes himself a hawk, and he says to the young lady:

"Cling firmly to my neck."

And he flies off, and they arrive at the other side of the island. He writes immediately to the king his lord, to send and fetch them as quickly as possible. The king sent; and judge what joy and what feasts there were in that court. The king wished them to marry directly, but Malbrouk would not do so. (He said) that he ought to bring his dowry. The king said to him:

"You have gained enough already."

He will not hear of that, but goes off far, far, far away, to the house of his godfather.

They had there a cow with golden horns, and these horns bore fruits of diamonds. A boy used to guard her in the field. Malbrouk said to him: [83]

"What! do you not hear that the master is calling you? Go, quickly, then, and learn what he wants of you."

The boy, (believing it), goes off. The master calls to him from the window:

"Where are you going to, leaving the cow? Go quickly; I see that Malbrouk is about there."

The boy sets off running back, but he cannot find the cow. Malbrouk had got off proudly with his cow, and he gives it to his future wife, who was very much pleased with it. The king wished him, then, to marry, (saying) that he was quite rich enough. Malbrouk would not yet. He must make a present to the king. He goes again to his godfather's house. He wished to steal from him a moon, which lighted for seven leagues round. Old Malbrouk used to drink a barrel of water every night. Young Malbrouk goes and empties this barrel. When night came, Malbrouk goes to drink at his barrel, and finds it empty. He goes to find his wife, and says to her:

"I have not got a drop of water; go directly, and fetch me some. I cannot bear this thirst."

His wife said to him, "It is night, light your moon." He lights it, and puts it by the chimney, on the roof. When everyone has gone to the fountain, young Malbrouk goes and takes this moon, and carries it to the king. And he, astonished, said to him:

"Now you have done grandly; now be married."

But he would not; (he said) that he ought to bring something more. His godfather had a violin, which it was enough only to touch for it to play, no matter what beautiful music, and it would be heard seven leagues off. He goes into his godfather's house to take the violin, and as soon as he has touched it, it begins to play music. Old Malbrouk rushes off, and catches his godson in the act. He seizes him, and puts him into an iron cage. He and his wife are right well pleased. They say to him:

"This evening we are going to roast you, and eat you."

Old Malbrouk goes to the forest to fetch wood, and his wife was busy cutting some small--she was taking a great deal of trouble about it. Malbrouk says to her:

"Let me get out of here; I will cut that wood for you. You can kill me all the same this evening."

She lets him out. After having cut up some, he takes one of the largest pieces and strikes the wife of Malbrouk, and kills her. He makes a great fire, and puts her in the caldron to boil. He takes the violin, and leaves the house. When old Malbrouk hears the violin, he says to himself:

"My wife, not being able to hold out any longer, has, doubtless, killed Malbrouk, and to show me her joy she has taken the violin."

And he does not trouble himself any more about it. When he approaches the house he stands, well pleased, looking at the caldron on the fire, but, on coming nearer, he sees some long hairs. He pulls out a little more, and perceives that it is his wife, who is there already, half-boiled. Think what a rage he was in. The young Malbrouk went to the king's house, and married his well-beloved princess. They made great rejoicings. As the king was somewhat aged, he gives his crown to Malbrouk, saying that he had well gained it. They all lived happily, and he made his two brothers kings also.

Laurentine,
About 35 years old; learnt it from her mother.

THE FISHERMAN AND HIS SONS.

Like many others in the world, there was a fisherman who lived with his wife. One day he was fishing and caught a fine fish (at that time all the animals and everything used to speak), and the fish said to him: [84]

"Spare my life! Spare my life! I will give you all that you shall desire."

And this poor man spared its life, and went home without having caught anything else. When he came home his wife asks him:

"Where are your fish?"

He tells her how that he had caught a fish, and that it had begged him to spare its life, and that he had left it in the water. His wife says to him:

"Have you lost your head then? After having caught a fish to put it back again into the water!"

And she called him all sorts of names, even "big donkey."

The next day he goes fishing again, and (what a chance!) the same fish came again. It asks him again to spare its life. But the man answers:

"No! My wife loaded me with abuse last evening."

The fish said to him that he would give him as much money as he wished if he would but spare him. And our fisherman lets him go again. He remains there again all day, but nothing comes to his hook. Again he goes off home without anything at all. His wife is furious at seeing that he has nothing. He gives her some money, but she was not satisfied, and told her husband that he ought to have brought the fish.

He goes fishing again for the third time, and again the same fish returns, and says to him, "Let me go into the water."

But our man will not let him go again; his wife had scolded him so much last night. He must carry him home.

"Well, then, since you will carry me home, I will tell you how you must divide me. You must give my tail to the dog, my head to the mare, and my trunk to your wife. At the end of a certain time your wife will bear three sons, and they will all be exactly like each other, exactly alike. The mare will have three colts, but all three alike, and the bitch three puppies, all exactly alike too. And if any misfortune should happen to any of the three children, the well which is behind the house will begin to boil."

The woman did as the fish had said, and she gave birth to three wonderfully fine boys, who were all exactly, exactly alike, and the mare had three colts exactly alike, and the bitch three puppies exactly alike too.

When these children grew big, one of them said to his parents that he wished to go from country to country to see the world. His parents did not wish it. But he had such a desire that at last they gave him leave. He takes a horse and a dog, extraordinarily large and handsome, a sword also, [85] and off he starts. He goes on, and on, very, very far. He comes to a city and goes to an inn. They were lamenting loudly there, and everybody was sad. [86] He asks, "What is it?" They tell him how that a serpent with seven heads lived in the mountain, and that every day they drew lots to know who should go to him, because he must eat one person every day; and that to-day the lot has fallen on the king's daughter, and that everyone was in mourning, and that the next day this princess must go very early to the mountain.

Our young man takes his horse, his dog, and his sword, and starts off before the princess. He keeps himself hidden until the princess was alone at the top. Then our lad comes out, and the princess says to him:

"Where do you come from here? Go down quickly, else you will be eaten as well as I. It is quite enough for one (to die)."

And she entreats him to go down, but our lad will not. He wishes to try if he can do anything. At the same moment they hear a shrill hissing, and with that the serpent comes. The lad says to the dog:

"Do your duty."

And the dog leaps upon the serpent and holds him. He takes his sword and cuts off his seven heads as best he can. When he has done that he takes the seven tongues out of the seven heads and puts them in his pocket. This princess had on seven robes, each more beautiful than the others, and he cuts seven pieces out of them severally. The princess does not know what to do to thank him. She wishes to take the lad home with her, but he will not go. And he returns to the inn.